Amongst The Chaos
by xfirefly9x
Summary: Mac/Stella. A collection of short fics based on the relationship between Mac and Stella.
1. Amongst The Chaos

**_Amongst The Chaos_**

There's a low rumble of thunder off in the distance, of an approaching storm. It shakes the world with its agony and its pain and it gives warning of what is to come.

The sky, already grey, will explode with the coming of torrential rain. Droplets of water will paint windows and cleanse the streets. The wind will spiral among the chaos, supervising all that goes on.

Stella pulls the blanket tighter around her and holds back a shiver.

It's cold. So very cold.

She burrows down deeper and deeper under the covers and suddenly Mac's arms are around her and his warmth is hers and hers is his.

He nuzzles the crook of her neck. "Better?" he asks.

She tilts her head to look at him as the rain starts to fall. "Much."


	2. Bad Day

**_Bad Day_**

"Bad day?" Stella asks the moment she sees the frown on Mac's face. His brow is furrowed in concentration and his eyes are piercing the file on his desk without seeming to take anything in, a clear sign that he's distracted and probably more than a little annoyed.

He doesn't answer.

"Mac! Hello?" she tries. Nothing. She sighs inwardly.

_This could be fun, _she muses.

She walks up to his desk and without warning, slaps her palms down on its surface, resulting in a loud 'clap!'. "Hey!"

Mac blinks – the first sign he's shown to her that he knows she's there – and slowly turns his head. "Stella," he replies calmly. "Was there something you wanted?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, Mac. I want you," she says, pausing for a moment for emphasis, "to finish up here and come to dinner with me. You need a break."

He looks her over with calculative eyes as if surprised by her proposition. Eventually, he offers a reply. Short and simple. "Okay."

Stella smiles. Finally, success! "I'll meet you out front in five minutes. I have to grab my jacket."

He nods and she takes it as permission for her to leave. She finds him as instructed, out front, not long after, her jacket slung over her arm.

"Let's go," she says, slipping her hand in his and steering him down the street. Her next words are teasing and earn her a grin. "Time to have some fun for a change."


	3. Clear As Day

**_Clear As Day_**

He can see it in her eyes as clear as day.

There is something she isn't saying, something she isn't telling him.

He doesn't know how to feel about that. They're best friends. Talking about how they're feeling is what they do – or so she's told him on the many occasions she's tried to get him to open up.

In reality they don't talk as often as she suggests they should.

With their eyes, they can communicate what words just can't say. With their eyes, they can tell what the other is thinking and feeling.

Usually.

Usually they don't need words.

Today though, he can't seem to get a read on her.

He can't put together exactly what it is that's going on with her.

He knows there's something, but what it is remains a mystery to him.

He looks her over, concern in his expression.

He puts a hand on her shoulder, waits until she lifts her gaze to meet his.

"Are you okay?"

He sees a glimmer of fear and then nothing.

She pulls away and takes his heart along with her.

"I'm fine, Mac."

He lets her leave, but he knows she isn't fine.

She isn't herself.


	4. Turning Dreams Into Life

**_Turning Dreams Into Life_**

He doesn't make a move on Stella. He wants to, badly, but he won't let himself. He doesn't want to risk the friendship he has with her. She means too much to him to chance losing her.

It doesn't matter that every time he's in the same room with her, his heart beats that little bit faster. It doesn't matter that when no one else can, she can bring a smile to his face and lighten the weight of his troubles.

She is his hope in a bleak world and without her, he is certain he would have forgotten how to smile.

He doesn't make a move on Stella, but sometimes he dreams that he does and that one day, when he's ready to, he'll turn those dreams to real life.


	5. Best I've Ever Seen

**_Best I've Ever Seen_**

He barely takes in the movie that they're supposed to be watching. It's some old black and white flick and he's seen plenty of those in his time.

The smoothness of Stella's leg against his own is too distracting to properly focus on the exact details of the plot and he really doesn't care. Stella has always been much more…entertaining, he supposes the word is…than movies.

He smiles softly at the expression on her face, so focused on the movie that he can't seem to digest and so relaxed and at peace. It's rare that he sees her as open and as vulnerable. He finds he likes this part of Stella. A lot.

His eyes travel down from her face over the curves of her shoulders and her arms to her hands. One is twirling a strand of her hair around her index finger. The other hand lies flat on her lap, fingers splayed.

His gaze moves down to her legs, recently shaven, he deduces. The skin looks smooth and to be able to see it as well as have it brushed up against his own leg is heaven.

_She's perfect_, he thinks to himself, his mind drifting. _Perfect_.

He doesn't catch the amused smile on her face not does he realise that she knows he's not watching the movie but rather is staring at her.

He doesn't realise any of it at all until her leg presses more firmly to his and she stops twirling her hair around her finger to instead clasp his hand in hers.

He glances up immediately then, meeting her eyes. They glint mischievously back at him.

"Enjoying the movie?" she teases.

He can feel the heat rise to his cheeks (she knows) but nods and grins at her anyway. "It's the best I've ever seen."


	6. He's Not There

**_He's Not There_**

She stumbles, reaches out but there's nothing to hold onto.

He's not there to catch her as he should be.

The ground flies towards her – or perhaps she falls towards it – and suddenly, she's on top of it.

Pain shoots through her hands where the skin is torn and the same smoldering ache burns her knees.

She wants to cry, needs to cry, but doesn't.

She refuses to.

He's not there to wrap her in his arms and comfort her.

Bare hands flat on the concrete, she gingerly pushes up and climbs to a sitting position. She can do no more.

If she is to stand, she will surely collapse again.

She will crash again.

He's not there.

She breathes in deep, exhales, takes another breath to slow the racing of her heart. She swallows back the tears she longs to shed. Her throat is on fire.

Hanging her head, she sits and waits. Surely someone will help her.

He's not there, but someone else might care.

Someone…

She stares solemnly at the concrete, at the patch of blood that now stains it (her blood) and the footsteps around her blur into one another, a symphony of people around her.

They don't care.

None of them do.

She is sprawled on the concrete and they pass her by without a thought.

And he's not there.

Her heart is sinking in her chest when out of nowhere, it comes.

A hand reaching down, offering her the support she so desperately needs.

She slowly lifts her hand up and in moments, the stranger's hand is gripping hers and helping her stand on her feet once more.

No longer is she sprawled on the ground, unseen.

She comes face to face with her savior, her hero.

Her throat tightens.

"Mac?"

He smiles at her, almost sadly.

"I didn't think you were coming."

He hadn't been there.

She had fallen and she had been alone.

"You didn't think I'd leave you on your own, did you?"

_Yes_, she wants to tell him.

She wants to scream it at him until he has to cover his ears. Until her throat bleeds as her hands and her knees have.

_You weren't here_.

Instead she clutches at his shirt.

"It's about damn time you got here."

He holds her up, pulls her close and finally she can let go.

Finally, she is not invisible.

She sobs into his shoulder as he strokes her hair.

"I'm here now."


	7. Smiling, Gazing, Drowning

**_Smiling, Gazing, Drowning_**

His eyes are gentle as he runs the fingertips of one hand over her cheek. She is very aware of his touch. Every inch of skin that his fingers trace over tingles pleasantly, persistently. The tenderness in his eyes only intensifies the feelings.

She moves slightly and suddenly he is cupping her face instead of just smoothing patterns over it and his is gazing at her with those eyes of his and she is drowning.

She wants more than anything for him to close the remaining distance between them and kiss her.

He doesn't.

Rather, he tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear and strokes her cheek one last time. He smiles at her. "You okay?"

She nods, doesn't speak. She doesn't trust herself to speak.

His smile softens and he nods, taking a step back.

"Good," he says simply.

He looks at her as if he wants to say more, as if he wants to do more and she urges him silently on.

He turns.

She watches him leave and as she does so, she traces her face with her fingertips where his just laid claim on her.


	8. Just A Paper Cut

**_Just A Paper Cut_**

He's staring into space thinking about their latest case when Stella cries out. He glances up immediately, fixing concerned eyes on her where she sits beside him. "What? What's wrong?" His heart races.

"Ow!" she says again. She gingerly touches a finger to her left thumb. She winces.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, narrowing his eyes slightly when he realizes what he's just said. Stupid question.

She looks up from her cradled thumb to offer a pained smile. "It's just a paper cut," she explains. "It's nothing."

He feels his heart rate slow back to normal. Still, he reaches for her hand. "Let me see."

She raises an eyebrow at him and an exasperated smile forms on her face, but she obeys. "Really, Mac. I'm fine. It's just – "

He inspects her thumb closely. A fine line where the paper cut her mars the otherwise unblemished skin. He raises his eyes to meet hers as he lifts her hand to his lips and gently kisses it.

" – a paper cut," she finishes weakly.

He smiles. "All better."

She shakes her head in disbelief, though her smile widens.

"You know what?" she says. "It does feel much better now. Thanks, Mac."

They share a look.

He nods. "Works every time."


	9. Too Fuzzy

**_Too Fuzzy_**

She runs her fingers through the material of the coat, a soft scowl on her face. The material is soft, so very soft and yet she can't seem to find it in her to like it.

Mac raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her and she sighs.

"It's made of fur," she explains as answer to his unspoken question.

"I didn't think you were against that sort of thing as a general rule."

She lifts a shoulder. "I'm not the most environmentally friendly person," she admits, "but fur coats? No thanks. I'd rather the animals kept their fur for themselves."

He inclines his head, nodding in understanding. "How about that one, then?" he suggests. He gestures at another coat. It's black and similar in texture, but the label says its fake fur.

She shakes her head. "Too fuzzy."

They share a smile and move as one past the rest of the fur coats.

She stops abruptly at the next section.

"I found it," she says, obscuring his line of view. "The perfect coat."

He smiles warmly at her and makes a gesture in the air with one hand. "So? Let me see it."

Standing aside, a sleek leather coat is revealed.

So much for environmentally friendly.

His smile widens resulting in a brighter smile from her.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" she asks.

He takes it off the rack and helps her slip it on. Raking his eyes over her, he nods. "It is," he agrees.

When she reaches for her wallet, he reached out and stops her. "My shout. Think of it as a late birthday present."

Without a word, she wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him.

She pulls back and looks up at him, emotion shining in her eyes. "Thank you, Mac. It's the best late birthday present I've ever gotten."

He smirks. "Hold up a bit there. I still have to pay for it."

Rolling her eyes, she punches him lightly in the arm as they head to the check out line.


	10. Under Covers

**_Under Covers_**

"Warm," she murmurs, earning a smile from him. She pulls the covers closer around her and extracts a hand to pat the bed beside her.

He raises an eyebrow at her, smiles a crooked smile. "I'm sick, Stel. I don't want you to catch anything." He crosses his arms over his chest.

She continues to stare at him. Finally, she shrugs. "I can already feel a sore throat coming on. Don't worry about it." She nods at the empty space to her right.

Still, he lingers in the doorway. A glimmer of something crosses his face and he realises she must have picked it up because she smiles encouragingly at him. "It couldn't be helped," she told him. "I was bound to get sick eventually. It's all over the city."

The guilt in his expression fades somewhat, but he doesn't move.

"C'mon, Mac!" she says lightly. "Join me! We can be sick together."

He sniffs and runs a finger over the bridge of his nose. Studies her. Smiles.

"Okay," he agrees and before she can wonder what exactly he's doing, he's half running to the bed and diving under the covers.

She grins and puts an arm around his shoulders. Touching her nose to his cheek, she murmurs, "see? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He turns slightly so that their noses are brushing.

She raises an eyebrow and smirks at him.

Eyes shining, he leans in and rests his forehead against hers. "It was hard, actually," he teases. "Amazingly so."

She pulls back, gives a short burst of laughter and pushes a hand lightly on his chest. "Funny, Mac," she rolls her eyes. "Real funny."


	11. Leather Jacket

**_Leather Jacket_**

He's wearing a leather jacket when she arrives at the bar at the prearranged time. She sees him the moment she steps inside. She has always loved leather. The smell, the feel of it beneath her fingers…

The combination of both it and Mac, two of her favourite things, makes her heart beat that little bit faster. It had already been pounding when she first set out.

She smiles and waves at him when he too picks her out in the crowd. Their eyes connect but only for a second because someone pushes past her and her vision of him is obscured. That doesn't matter though because he makes his way to her and meets her in the middle.

In silence, they head for the side of the bar where the crowd isn't so rough. He takes her hand in his and guides her. She can't help but grin madly at that. Two dates and already he was taking charge. He was being open about their new relationship. He was holding her hand in public.

They reach their destination and lean back against the wall, side by side. They watch the bustle of people around them, holding drinks, pushing through the crowd to find friends and dancing. After awhile, their eyes meet once more. They both want to be elsewhere. Together. Away from all these people.

She quirks an eyebrow, nods towards the door. "Want to get out of here?"

His smile makes her heart pause in its racing to skip a beat. "I do."

She grabs his hand again and leads him outside to fresh air.

When they reach his car, he snakes his arms around her waist and kisses her.

She kisses him back and breathes in the heavy leather scent of his jacket.


	12. Warmth Of The Sun

**_Warmth Of The Sun_**

Her hair is silk beneath his fingers. He lets his hands run through it and over the equally soft texture of her cheek when he happens to slip.

He curls a strand of her hair around his index finger like a spring or a protective covering of sorts and marvels in the way it feels: gentle but tight, warm, safe. He watches with the same fascination as he releases it and it slides off his finger, bouncing like a buoy out on the ocean.

His hand goes limp at his side and he buries his head in the crook of her neck. He can feel her smile against the top of his head. Her fruity shampoo fills his senses.

He opens his mouth to speak but abruptly closes it. It is not a time for words. Instead he chooses to focus on the feeling of her hair against his cheek and the warmth of the morning sun filtering in through the window.


	13. Whatever You Need

**_Whatever You Need_**

"What are you doing down there?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow. She studies the motionless figure that is Mac. He's sitting on the floor his back braced against the wall and his head in his hands.

He doesn't respond.

"Mac?" she urges him, taking a step closer. "Are you all right?"

Nothing.

"Mac, come on! You're scaring me. Say something."

He slowly lifts his head to look up at her. His nose is tinged red and there are wet trails down his cheeks. _He's been crying_, she realises.

Her heart aches for him as she kneels by his side. She gently brushes his tears away with the pad of her thumb. Done with that, she settles beside him. Her eyes widen at the sudden contact with the cold floor beneath her.

Mac watches her every move.

"Hey," she says. "What's going on? Do you want to talk about it?" Her tone is soft, comforting, everything his expression tells her he believes that he doesn't deserve. She wraps an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to dispel that line of thought.

He only seems to close off to her more.

"Mac?"

"I…I can't," he tries. He chews on his lower lip. Turns to lock eyes with her. "Do you mind if we just sit? Right now, I can't…"

She smiles softly, nods.

_Well, that was a start_, she thought to herself.

She squeezed his shoulder. "Whatever you need, Mac. Whatever you need."


	14. I'm Not Alright

**_I'm Not Alright_**

**Notes:** Tag to "All Access".

Her fingers grazed the wound on her face as she remembered.

Entering her apartment to find that she was not alone and that somehow Frankie had gotten inside.

Staring at him as he continued to set the table, as if she hadn't broken up with him and it was the most normal thing in the world.

Realising that she was in danger and that her life could very well be at stake.

Realising Frankie was not the man she had thought he was.

She had of course discovered that when she'd come across the website he'd put together, but even then she hadn't believed him to be a threat to be overly concerned about. She hadn't feared him then but rather despised him.

That had changed when he turned on her.

She recalled struggling with him and the rapid beat of her heart as it tried to escape her chest. She remembered blood, too. Lots of blood.

She remembered pain, stabbing and cruel, twisting like acid through her veins.

She relived her escape from her bathtub and from Frankie's grasp, until he caught up to her again and wrestled her onto the floor so that she lost grip on her one hope: her gun.

She remembered desperation and adrenaline and three loud, final shots before Frankie fell to her bedroom floor with a 'thud', his eyes still wide in disbelief.

Her next memory was of a hand caressing her face much like she was doing now, and then of Mac's face swimming into focus.

She shivered slightly when Mac walked up to her, breaking her from her thoughts and offering her a soft smile.

"You okay?" he asked.

She thought about lying and almost did, but this was Mac and he'd always been there for her. He cared about her. At the very least, she should tell him the truth. He deserved that much.

She shook her head and swallowed back tears as he took her hand in his. "No," she admitted. "I'm not alright. But I will be."


	15. Completing The Cycle

**_Completing The Cycle_**

Droplets of rain glide down her face. Her hair is a tangled mess of damp curls. Each step she takes is hampered down by her sopping wet clothing.

Still, she keeps moving.

She needs to feel something other than the dull melancholy in her soul, dragging her under to depths unseen.

She needs to know that there is more to feel.

She takes another step followed by another, not quite running and not quite walking.

She is so caught up in listening to the rain that she doesn't hear the footsteps behind her. She doesn't hear Mac call her name; his voice is carried off by the wind. She doesn't feel his presence.

Until he breaks into a job and catches up to her.

"Hey, Stella," he calls as she looks at him in surprise. "Slow down, please?"

She obliges, comes to a stop and stares at him from behind dripping lashes. "Mac! I didn't see you." She breathes in the crisp air. Exhales.

"Or hear me apparently," he adds.

She offers an apologetic smile. "What brings you here?"

"I saw you on your way past the bakery down the block," he explains. "I thought I'd see how you're going. You know." He talks to her as if they're not standing in the middle of the street, rain pouring down upon them.

"Oh. Well, I'm fine," she tells him. She wraps her arms around her midsection. Lying to Mac never has sit well with her.

As expected, he sees right through her "Really? Because you didn't look fine. Is something bothering you?"

She swallows, shakes her head. "I'm fine. Really."

He raises an eyebrow. "Stella," he warns.

"Okay. I was working off some frustrations that last case brought up. Who doesn't occasionally, in our line of work?"

His brow creases in understanding. "We all do need to vent sometimes," he agrees. "I've been affected by it more than once myself. Make sure you stay alert when you do go out though. You nearly ran over a boy back there. Next time it could be a car that runs over you."

She averts her gaze to study the ground. The rain has intensified the colour of the path from a dull grey to a darker colour, the colour of concrete when it's first laid down. She frowns.

"Stella?" he says quietly. He places a finger under her chin and lifts her head to meet her eyes.

She swallows and looks at him grimly. "Yeah, Mac. I heard you." The shame she suddenly feels fills her from the top of her head right down to the toes of her drenched sneakers.

He picks up on it, puts a comforting hand on her lower back and begins to lead her back the way she came. "Let's get you cleaned up."

She can do nothing but nod.

The rain has already cleansed her as much as it possibly can. It was time for her to let go until the cycle began again with the arrival of a new case.


	16. The Breathing Of A Man Asleep

**_The Breathing Of A Man Asleep_**

His voice is a gentle breeze against her ear. It wisps over her skin, warm and subtle, but strong enough to alert her to his presence. It soothes her.

She inhales, breathes his scent in, exhales. She can feel him do the same though his breathing is even where hers is drawn out; his is the breathing of a man asleep.

She allows her eyes to flutter slowly open.

The light is dim, soft. It filters in through the window, bathes them in pale shades of colour. It illuminates the lines of his face, the angle of his jaw.

She reaches a finger out, draws a faint line along his cheek.

He swallows and shifts at the contact, but remains oblivious to the world outside of his own mind.

A smile plays at her lips.

Nestling back down under the covers, she shares in his warmth. She closes her eyes once more.

His breath warms her face as she drifts back off to sleep.

_fin._


	17. His Heart

**_His Heart_**

All that is left of him is an empty shell. He is no longer complete, no longer a whole person. He is only an echo of who he used to be.

She sees every moment that passes him by as it tears even more from him. She sees him break that little bit more. She sees his tears.

It is only she who sees him so truly for what he is and who he has become. She has been with him from the start. She knows him.

All that is left of him is a shadow of his former self and yet she refuses to leave his side. She can't leave his side.

All that is left of him is a bitter man, pinned down by the horrors of his past. His past is his state of mind, his present and his future.

All that is left of him is a dark void, empty, silent.

She doesn't care. He may be damaged, well and truly, but she knows him and she knows his heart.

That is enough.

_fin._


	18. Snow Is Falling

**_Snow Is Falling_**

It's Christmas Eve. Snow is falling outside and he's still in the office.

He sighs and wishes he'd taken up Stella's offer to get Irish coffee before they called it a night. The last thing he'll be doing now is paperwork.

Or not.

He glances up as the door swings open.

Stella.

Hooked over her arms are plastic bags and she is holding precariously in one hand, two Styrofoam cups.

He hurriedly gets up and goes to help her.

"Stella? What're you doing here?"

She looks at him as if it's obvious.

"I'm bringing Christmas to you."

He smiles.

_fin._


	19. Taking The Next Step

**_Taking The Next Step_**

"Let's get married," he tries. "Stella, I think we're ready to take the next step."

He pauses and shakes his head. "No."

He studies his reflection in the mirror and frowns. "No, that doesn't sound right," he muses. His brow furrowed, he gives it another go.

"Stella," he says, kneeling down and feeling like an idiot as he does so. "Marry me?"

At that exact moment, she pops her head around the door. She grins.

He takes in her expression and the curls bouncing around her face and is suddenly certain. This is right.

"Marry me, Stel?"

She nods. "Definitely."

_fin._


	20. Words Are Meaningless

**_Words Are Meaningless_**

His eyes burn. He can't see through the thick cloud that is his unshed tears. He is blind and he is deaf to the world and all he can do is wait for the pain and the cold in his heart to defrost and let him live again.

Something touches him on the arm, scorching him. He pulls away from it. Jerks away. Winces when he hears her voice. Her voice.

Stella.

He can't deal with her right now. He can't cope with the questions she'll throw his way. (Are you all right? Where does it hurt? Who's the bastard who made you feel this way so I can hunt them down and give them a piece of my mind? Where's Claire? Do you want me to get her for you?)

Claire.

Gone.

He reminds himself again.

It is Stella standing over him.

He can barely see his hands in front of his face let alone see her. He can't see her. Doesn't want to because he'll surely break.

Words are meaningless and he'll not even manage to form a coherent response if she asks for one.

"I heard."

Surprisingly he makes out her words, as ragged and uneven as they are. His heart breaks that little bit more.

She knows.

"I'm here, Mac," she tells him. She gently wraps an arm around his shoulders and though he wants to push her away (she's not Claire), he allows her to comfort him. She needs it too. Perhaps that is why he lets her.

"We'll get through this," she adds.

He doesn't believe her.

"I'll make sure we do."

_fin._


	21. Dance Shoes

**_Dance Shoes_**

He's walking aimlessly through the shops looking for the perfect gift for Stella. It's almost Christmas and he knows she's already bought something for him. He wants to return the favour.

As brilliant as his plan was when he started out, he's realized since that he should have done more. He should have decided what to buy for her before he set out to the shops. He has absolutely no idea what to get her at this point. No idea whatsoever.

He stoops down to pick up his wallet when it falls from his grasp and when he looks back up, he sees a shoe store and it hits him.

Dance shoes.

He remembers how light and playful she had been awhile back when they'd been working on a case that had led them to a dance studio. Stella had given a demo of the dance moves that had been scrawled across a piece of paper among the victim's possessions.

She had been hypnotic to watch. Beautiful.

He enters the shoe store without another thought.

When he hands her the gift later and she tears the paper away, he's relieved to see the smile take control of her face.

_fin._


	22. Worse Than Death

_A/N:This one gets really quite dark (violent thoughts and such) so if that's not your thing, you might want to skip over it._

_**Worse Than Death**_

I want to kill him. I want to stand in front of him, grab him by his shoulders and shake him free of his very last breath. I want so badly to stab him in the chest with the kitchen knife I use to chop up chicken for my dinner. I want to watch the blood stain the blade and seep into his clothes.

I want to see his chest rise and fall slower and slower until he is still.

I want him to die and I want to be the reason for it.

It scares me and exhilarates me and I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my body. My blood is hot in my veins; I am exceptionally aware of and familiar with its journey throughout each and every one of my limbs.

It will take a long walk out under the blackened slate of sky to ease off my anger. It will take many of such walks and even that won't be enough. Nothing will ever be enough.

Bastards like him deserve much worse than death.

There is no justice in death. The death sentence is merely stooping down to the level he is at. It does not make things right. It can only prevent him from doing any further harm. The past cannot be erased.

I know it is wrong but a part of me wishes him to be not yet caught – even though I'm the one who brought him in and I know he's been charged already – so I can hunt him down myself and play out my wildest fantasies. In them I am adamant in my belief that he really should _not_ have messed with Stella's life because I am his prize. I am his prize and when he rips off the wrapping paper, he will find nothing but pain.

As much as I would like to, I cannot kill him, however. To kill him would be life imprisonment. For me. I can't do that to Stella. She needs me out here, on the good side of the law and I need her not that either of us will ever admit it. I have come to rely on her like no one else. And so, I have to let him get away with a punishment not nearly severe enough for his crimes.

My heart is furious that I can do no more while my head is glad I've done what I have and no more than that. Because there is nothing else I can do, I take comfort – no matter how little – in the fact that I've put him behind bars and Stella is safe. Occasionally I allow the fantasies of killing him to resurface, but not for long.

He will soon be gone from this life and he is not worth the trouble of earning a place for myself behind bars alongside him. One thing I have learned while on his case is that I do not ever want to become the same man he is.

_fin._


	23. With My Life

_A/N: Dialogue snurched from "Dollhouse". (Not mine!)_

_**With My Life**_

"Do you trust me?" he asks, holding out his hand to the frightened shadow of a woman that he used to know as Stella. His eyes are level and cool as he studies her and his lips streak a line across his face in stark contrast to the horror haunting his heart.

He doesn't recognise this woman. The Stella he knows is strong and capable and she can look after herself. She doesn't crawl up into a ball and disappear into the corner, holding her head in her hands. She doesn't flinch when he talks to her.

He hates that she is so afraid now that he cannot see the strength in her that he usually would have been able to see. He hates that someone would be cruel enough to torture another human being to the point that they were barely recognisable as the person they were before.

It kills him even more that he wasn't there to protect her. He arrived too late.

She lifts her head and their eyes lock. "With my life."

_fin._


	24. This Is Goodbye

**_This Is Goodbye_**

_I never meant to hurt you_

_I never meant to lie_

_So this is goodbye_

_'Porcelain' by Moby_

Waiting has never been so nerve-wracking. In many a situation, he has had to wait but none of those times even remotely compares to this. He has counted and recounted the twenty seven pins thrust randomly into the cork board, many of them holding flyers in place. He has read the seventeen flyers. Two of them announce a garage sale. Five of them are wedding dates. Four are deaths. The remaining six speak of lost pets and rewards for their return.

"Mac."

He turns to look at her. Golden hair bounces around her face in curls he longs to run through his fingers. Eyes more intense than anyone else's stare at him. His throat dries. "Stella. I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you."

"You did."

"I was trying to protect-"

"You lied to me, Mac," her voice is firm. "That's all there is to it."

"-your life," he finishes weakly.

A gust of wind tears down the street, rustling the flyers. One is freed from its pin and spirals downwards. It hits the street only to be picked up by the next blast of air. A teenager riding a skateboard whizzes past. There's a scratching sound as the wheels drag along the concrete. He disappears around the corner, leaving them alone once more.

"I can't do this any more. I can't be around you."

"What?"

He's surprised by his admission as much as she is. His eyes widening, he stares at her. As she frowns, it formulates in his mind. "I can't stay here knowing that I'm hurting you."

"You hurt me, Mac," she agrees, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be around me. I-"

"Goodbye."

Her shocked expression is the last thing he sees before he turns his back and walks away.

_fin._


	25. Close To You

_**Close To You**_

He's surprised when she offers up her evening to help him with reports. Usually she'd talk to him for the ten minutes before she left. She would argue that 'he needs to sleep and should take a break so he'll be fresh for the next day'. She is right of course. As a human being, his physiology calls for sleep.

Giving into that urge to stay up longer however means no pat on the shoulder or friendly kiss on the cheek before she leaves him to his thoughts. Given that it's usually the high point of his day, he doesn't want to give that up. He's also not a fan of leaving things unfinished when an extra hour or two of work is all that's needing to be done. His job is an important one.

One extra hour could save someone's life.

He quirks an eyebrow. "Don't you have something better to do? Not that I'm not grateful, but-"

"Maybe I just want to be close to you," she teases, and his heart skips a beat. No. Make that several beats.

He breathes in deeply.

"You are, after all, my best friend," she says. "I miss seeing you. This working on different cases thing is really cramping our style."

"We have a style?"

"Mmm hmm."

He tilts his head to the side, his lips curling up. "I miss seeing you, too."

"So. Reports and then dinner?"

"Everything will be closed," he points out.

"Will the vending machine be closed?"

He smirks. "I guess not."

"Then it's settled. Let's kick these reports' asses."

As she reaches across his desk to retrieve a file, he grins. "Sounds good. Though you know these reports don't actually have asses, right?"

She swats him with one of them, a smile on her face. "Funny, Mac."

_fin_


	26. Error In Judgement

_A/N: Tag to "Raising Shane"._

_**Error In Judgement**_

Peyton's hand is light and yet feels like a tonne of bricks on the side of his face and he quirks an eyebrow at the sudden contact. It's uncomfortable. This situation with Hawkes is bleak and the whole team is on edge. Furthermore, the relationship he has with Peyton while great is not something he's ready for the office to know. If someone were to walk in and find them there he doesn't know what he'd do. Office relationships are frowned upon. He has always had that belief. Being caught doing something he himself doesn't approve of is a nightmare.

His lips form a thin line as Peyton speaks. He reacts to her words as he would in any other situation but on the inside his mind is far away. And then he sees a glimpse of movement, of curls highlighted by the luminescent lighting and the sunlight that pours in through the windows. Stella.

Why, he's not sure, he flinches and with one swift motion he pushes Peyton's hand from his cheek. The pain of his rejection is clear on her face and yet he's more concerned about Stella. What would she think? How would she feel?

How would she feel? Where did that question come from?

"Mac!" Stella's voice breaks him from his thoughts.

He hurriedly tries to cover. "So you find out anything else you'll let me know, right?" As soon as he's speaking the words, he hates himself for saying them.

"Uh... yeah. Absolutely," Peyton agrees. "I'll see you later."

She offers him a curt nod and then walks off. Surprisingly, the most of his distress goes along with her and relief rushes over him like cool water on skin after a hot day.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner," Stella tells him. "I figured out how the GSR got on Hawke's clothing..."

As he lapses back into work mode and Stella updates him on the progress they're making on Hawke's case, he wonders. Why is he so comforted that Stella hadn't seen Peyton's hand on his face? And why doesn't it bother him more that he just hurt Peyton?

_fin._


	27. As The Sun Sets

**_As The Sun Sets_**

Twilight is upon us, she thinks as she watches the fading sky. The once brilliant blue has turned to watercolour pinks, reds, oranges and the last sunlight of the day peeks out over the horizon. She smiles softly.

It is just as she had imagined. Well, nearly.

His arms creep around her waist as he joins her and he rests his chin on her shoulder. His hair is heavy with the scent of shampoo.

Neither of them speaks a word, choosing instead to enjoy the silence as the sun sets.

Scratch that, she corrects herself. It's better than she had imagined.

_fin._


	28. The Beach

_**The Beach**_

"Ah, the company we keep." She smiles lazily at him and rolls her eyes as Danny, Lindsay and Hawkes chat animatedly over Chinese. Various files are scattered, some lying open and others shut, amongst the cartons of food. "Anyone would think we like being at work."

He smirks and takes a bread roll, sliding a plastic knife through it and spreading on a layer of butter. "We do like it, don't we?"

"Well, yes," she admits. "Sometimes. But, Mac. It's getting to the point where we have no life. We both need to get the hell outta here for a couple of days and just breathe."

"I'm quite happy to 'just breathe' here."

"Does here have bikinis though?"

He is silent for a moment, taken off-guard. He places the knife down on the table and swallows and then looks up at her. "No?"

She smirks. "Do you like bikinis?"

He looks even more confused. "Sure?"

"You. Me. The beach. How about it?"

If at all possible, his eyebrows rise higher. The corners of his mouth slowly follow, but there's an uncertainty about him as if he doesn't know whether she's serious or not. He clears his throat. "Uh,

Stel?"

"If you're gonna ask if I'm serious, the answer depends on whether you say yes to it or not," she fills in. Leaning over, she playfully jabs a slender finger into his shoulder. "So, Mac. What do you think?"

"I...uh."

"Hey Stella!" Lindsay calls. "Mac! Come listen to this!"

She frowns slightly at the interruption, but quickly regains her smile. "Sure Lindsay. We'll be there in a moment."

"Let's not keep them waiting?" he suggests. There's a nervous undertone to his voice and the phrase 'saved by the bell' enters her mind.

"Sure, Mac," she agrees. "But you're not getting out of this that easily! We're finishing this conversation later."

His face is still flushed a deep red when they move over to sit by the others.

_fin._


	29. Heed My Words

_**Heed My Words**_

"Heed my words, Mac."

"Heed?" He smirks.

"Oh shut it. I've been reading a lot of Shakespeare lately."

"Oookay."

She rolls her eyes as her hands move from her hips to grasp at and toy with each other. She forces them to still, sucks her lower lip into her mouth and then releases it. "Mac," she says.

"Yes? I'm listening."

"I like pie. A lot."

He looks at her blankly.

"And, Mac? Hours of overtime should come with pie lest you want any grumpy employees on your hands."

"Is that what this is about? You're hungry?"

"Mac, I haven't eaten dinner yet. I was about to order in when you called me in for this case."

"Oh." He stares at her. "Do you want to take a break then? I'll take you out for dinner myself. I can't let the finest of my employees starving on me!"

"Why, Mac." She says. "I thought you'd never ask.

_fin._


	30. Men!

_**Men!**_

"Men!" Stella rubbed at her temples and closed her eyes. So absorbed in her frustrations, she didn't hear Mac enter and so when she opened her eyes to face the world again, there he was, right in front of her. She flinched and nearly swore. She chose instead to glare at him.

"You okay?" Mac asked.

"Oh, I am just great, Mac. Thanks for asking." Her voice was laced with sarcasm. "And how are you on this fine morning?"

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Stella-"

"Really, Mac. Nothing happened. That's just it." She exhaled and then drew in a ragged breath. "I get it. It's hard to know at times where one stands in a relationship. What I don't get is not doing anything about it. Why torture yourself and your partner about it?"

"I-"

"I mean, it can be great not to rush things, but come on! There's a point where-mph!" Her words fell away when his lips crashed to hers and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. It took her a second to respond and then the kiss deepened and she tangled her fingers in his hair.

He pulled back and she glared at him some more. "What did you stop for?"

"I'm sorry," he teased. "You were saying something before. I interrupted. It was rude of me"

"Yeah?"

He nodded.

"Well I'm done talking. You'd best interrupt me some more."

A telltale glimmer shone in his eyes. "I wouldn't want to rush anything"

She groaned."Oh, shut up, Mac and kiss me already."

He looked at her silently for a moment and then decided it was better off to obey her. "Yes, ma'am!"

_fin._


	31. A Vulnerable State

_**A Vulnerable State**_

He isn't certain what made him do it. Perhaps it was the thought of losing her, imbedded so far into his brain that he could do nothing but lose himself in her arms at the end of it all. Perhaps he just saw something in her expression that told him it was time. He thinks it was more probably a number of different things.

Whatever the case, he is really quite clueless as to how and why they ended up like this. It had just been a kiss. He had intended it to be a comforting one. A kiss between friends. They both needed it after the events of the day. It wasn't meant to end with their limbs entangled and her head on his chest as she slept the next morning.

He sighs.

It wasn't meant to happen this way.

He tries to stop thinking but he can't help but wonder why she gave into him so easily. Did he take advantage of her in a vulnerable state? Or did she actually want this?

He doesn't know what answer will scare him more.

_fin._


	32. No Escape

_**A/N: Went a bit dark and angsty with this one! I'll have to work on something a bit more fluffy for the next chapter. Meanwhile, enjoy! :)  
**_

_**No Escape**_

There is no escape. There is no way to get out of this mess. It's still sinking in and she's terrified of how she will feel when the full extent of it really hits her.

Beside her, Mac is slumped back against the wall. Blood is caked onto his left temple and the times he opens his eyes, it is just a fluttering and so quick it's barely noticeable. After awhile she begins to wonder if she's imagining it.

In a sense, he is lucky. He won't last too much longer and so won't have to deal with the stench surrounding them for as long as she will before they die.

Even with the bleak future looming ahead of them, she is glad he is with her. Call her selfish but she doesn't want to die alone. She doesn't want to die at all and she doesn't want him to die either but if that is how it must be, then so be it.

They might as well spend the last of their time together and die next to each other rather than rot away each on their own. It's morbid but somehow comforting. It makes her fear her fate less.

Mac groans and grabs at her and guilt washes over her. She should be more concerned about all of this. she shouldn't be comforted even the slightest bit that she is not alone. She should be horrified that Mac is with her.

Even knowing his death will kill a part of her, she fears more for her own life. Human nature, she puts it down as. She'll do whatever it takes to keep Mac safe, even put her life on the line for him, but her instincts to save herself will always be stronger. It's only natural.

She's glad there won't be any upcoming situations to determine which part of her feels the strongest. She's glad she won't have to find out if she'd risk Mac to save herself.

And yet, given their current situation, that would probably be better. It would be far more difficult but one of them would survive at least.

She wraps her arms around Mac and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She doesn't offer any words of comfort. Both know it would be useless. She leans her head on his shoulder and listens to his ragged breathing as they await the end.

_fin._


	33. A Case of Blues

_**A Case of Blues**_

Cars speed by outside the window. One moment they are there and the next all there is, is the empty road, eerily silent until the next vehicle arrives, usually seconds later. There is a constant humming sound as a result of the traffic; it drowns out the festivities on the streets below.

Alone on Christmas Eve is not how Stella envisioned events. That's how things are going so far though. Not one visitor has come over to bid her a Merry Christmas and no one has bothered to call.

She doesn't know why it bothers her so much. For years, she spent the holidays alone. Why should this year be any different? Why should she care more or less about how she spent the night?

A sigh escapes her lips as someone whistles loudly. A chorus of laughter and excited chatter, muffled, follows it.

"Okay," she says. "That's it. I'm going to bed."

Her phone rings.

In seconds she has it grasped in one hand. "Hello?'

"Hey Stella."

"Mac, is that you? Do we have a case?"

"Yeah, it's me. And I'm sorry to ruin your night but I need you on this one."

"No, no, that's fine. It's been a slow night for me anyway. I'm actually at the office right now."

"Okay," he says.

"So where are we at?" She slips a coat on as he tells her the address. "I'll be right there."

"Great. And Stella?"

"Yeah, Mac?" She hesitates, her hand on the door.

"Merry Christmas," he tells her.

Stella smiles. "To you too, Mac."

_fin._


	34. Dream Vs Reality

_**Dream Vs Reality**_

He doesn't want to find out that it's not true. He doesn't want the past two days to be all but a dream, a cruel illusion.

If it is in his head, he wants never to wake up.

Where he is now, with her, is where he wants to spend the rest of his life.

He smiles at her, a small smile, almost shy. He can feel the warmth in the grin she offers in return.

He opens his mouth to speak. He wants to tell her how he feels, how their shift in relationship has changed him for the better and he never wants to go back.

She places a finger over his lips.

Effectively silenced, he watches her instead as she looms over him, moving closer and closer to him until he can feel her breath on his face.

He loses his train of thought.

Her cheek presses against his as her arms encircle him. She leans into his embrace.

As he breathes in the scent of her hair, her skin, all of her, he feels calm. This is meant to be.

He smiles softly and hopes again that what he is living is reality, hard and true.

It will kill him if he finds out it is an illusion.

_fin._


	35. An Imagined Illusion

_**An Imagined Illusion**_

It's hopeless, a cruel illusion that will certainly soon be shattered. He will run away with her heart and her love whether he intends to or not. Since Claire, that is his way. If a relationship gets too hot for him, he turns tail and flees or dumps bucketfuls of water upon it.

He would have done it with Peyton too if she hadn't broken up with him first. The reservations she made clear in her break up letter were things he had thought about and criticised inside his mind all too often.

But that's all in the past.

He's here now, in another particularly nerve wracking moment, ready to give in.

That's got to be why he called her to meet with him, right? He's done with her and wants this relationship over.

Stella tries not to feel the sting of those words and tries not to hope that she is wrong. Hoping has never helped anyone. Reality is far more solid and difficult to bend to one's will than a dream or an illusion, imagined.

_fin._


	36. A Lifetime, But Not Enough

_**A Lifetime, But Not Enough**_

The first thing she remembers when she replays their first kiss in her mind is that he was wearing a black shirt. It was a formal shirt with buttons forming a line down his front.

She had earlier convinced him to loosen up and leave the first couple of buttons undone and so the collar stuck out casually and she could see the skin of his chest, sprayed with tiny hairs. She hadn't told him the reasoning behind her request of course: that she liked to see him relaxed. He'd have likely laughed at her if he knew she wanted to see some skin.

She remembers trailing her hands over the flat of his chest, feeling the fabric beneath her fingertips.

She recalls playing almost absentmindedly with the collar of his shirt, teasing the edges gently.

She recalls his hand stilling hers on his shoulders and the look of absolute desire, love, and lust on his face. And then it had happened.

His lips met hers and they were soft and warm and everything she had imagined they would be. She melted into him, breathed his scent in and tangled her hands in his hair when his wandered down to her waist.

It was a lifetime before their kiss ended and they broke apart, barely able to breathe. It was a lifetime and yet it was not enough.

"Feel like getting out of here?" she asked.

His smile was enough answer.

She took his hand in hers and they moved past the gyrating bodies of those left dancing in the club and out onto the street.

And now here she is, waiting for him to pick her up for their first actual date. Usually the first kiss comes after the first date, she ponders, rather than the other way around. She closes her eyes and replays the kiss another time. His black shirt is so very vivid an image in her mind.

Then again, she thinks with a grin, when did they ever do anything the normal way?

_fin._


	37. Hornets

**_Hornets_**

No more excuses. This time I'm not going to freak out and run off like I have hornets chasing after me. And no more waiting either. We've already been through enough hell without my own stupidity getting in the way. It does that sometimes. Interferes.

I can't always keep my emotions in check and things happen. What more can I say? The point has been reached where something must be done. Something more. Something better.

I pick up my phone and speed dial one: Mac. It rings once, twice, three times. Four. Five.

The machine cuts in and I can hear his voice in my ear as if he is standing right beside me. I hang up.

The moment the phone is out of my hands, I begin to wring them together. Nervous habit, you might say. It's a thing.

What now?

I grab my keys, call a cab and head out. Into the night. The air is cool and darkness provides me with cover. I arrive at his place sooner than I anticipated to find that I don't know what to say to him. What is left to say?

Before I can turn and go, his door opens and he steps out, almost knocking into me. His eyes widen.

"Hi. Mac."

"Stella. What are you doing here?"

"I..."

He frowns.

"I came to apologise, Mac. I know what I did... I should have told you about it first. I'm sorry I'm didn't. It was reckless of me.."

For a moment too long he stares at me.

"Mac? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," he tells me, "That you should come with me."

"What? Why?" I'm certain my confusion shows on my face.

He smirks. "Dinner."

Oh. Dinner.

"So, does this mean we're good?" I ask.

He has already started walking. I follow him, a heavy feeling in my stomach.

"We are," he agrees. "But dinner is on you this time."

_fin._


	38. I'm Buying

_Spoilers for s3._

_**I'm Buying**_

Crouched down amongst the debris, she is the picture of everything that he hates to see. A tragedy unfolding before him. Misery has never looked good on her.

It's with a heavy heart and a strange yearning to be there for her and to support her in any way he can that he takes the last few steps inside what is left of her apartment, and to her side.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

She laughs, humourlessly. "My apartment just burnt down, Mac. How do you think I'm doing?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No." She stands up and looks at him. In her hands she grips a photo frame, blackened by the fire. The photo has burned beyond recognition. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just..."

"Tired?" he asks.

She sighs and then lets her gaze wander around them. "Yeah. Tired."

"Let's get you out of here. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

He nods toward the door. "I'm buying."

_fin._


End file.
